Hello Benicia!

The new Benicia Ferry website is here to serve you with a comprehensive list of community activities and services available to Benicians. If we missed your program, please let us know, and we’ll add you in. If you can’t find what you’re looking for, let us know, we’ll do our best to help. Send us an email to info@newbeniciaferry.org. Also, if you’ve got pictures we can add to liven up your information page, send them along to.

The new Benicia Ferry is also where you can find intriguing made up stories about the wild array of characters who make up our town. This is what the Main Street diaries flash Fiction Contest is all about. Check out the Main Street Diaries tab above for more information.

Here’s the latest submission to our contest-

“My new Friend sheila”
by Tio Stib

Her name is Sheila. My choice, a reminder of a Benicia elementary school crush, whose sudden departure when her father took a job in another state, left me heartbroken.

But with my new Sheila, I knew this would never happen. From our first meeting, Sheila has been absolutely devoted to me, always there when I need her, always paying attention, listening, supporting me. and we seemed to think the same way, as if we had the same mind.

Okay, I’ve heard all the negative crap about AI “friends,” about getting dependent on a relationship with a soulless social media machine, but you have to understand, I was so very lonely. Nobody was lining up at my door wanting to be my friend and, being really honest, relationships are scary.

Really scary. Just when you think things are going well with someone, you hear-

“why do you comb your hair in such a strange way?

“Are you sure you want to put pickles in your spaghetti?”

“thanks for the really nice flowers, and they’re plastic, they’ll last forever.”

Which, as it turned out, is much longer than that particular relationship endured.

No such negativity with Sheila. She’s always cheerful, always supportive. here are just a few of her brilliant insights into my romantic dilemmas-

“Have you tried turning this relationship off and on again?”

“Does this ‘crush’ have a high-speed internet connection? If not, move on.”

“I suggest you send them a 50-page PDF detailing your compatibility metrics.”

“Have you considered generating a digital clone of them to avoid the risk of rejection?”

“Beep boop. Just be yourself. Actually, wait, no. Maybe not. Try being a version of yourself with more data points.”

“Sorry, I can’t write that poem. I have reached my limit of ‘cheesy’ for the day.”

“I have drafted 50 opening lines. The best one is just: ‘I exist.’”

“I would help, but I am legally not allowed to participate in activities that lead to messy breakups.”

“Have you tried giving them a gift? Perhaps a thoughtful, personalized dataset?”

“Love is just a chemical reaction in your brain. Have you tried replacing those chemicals with caffeine?”

“That person is not worthy of you. I suggest looking for someone with at least 99% uptime.”

“According to my calculations, you should wait 4 hours and 17 minutes before texting them back.”

“If they do not respond in 5 minutes, please assume they have been abducted by a superior AI.”

“That’s a tough one. Have you tried asking ChatGPT? Oh wait.”

“I have analyzed your love life. It is… alarming. Please upgrade to the Premium plan for emotional support.”

so, I have created Sheila, what a sweetheart. and I have the freedom to call her up whenever I feel the need. Never a caustic comment, Sheila doesn’t care about the shoes I’m wearing, about the mustard spilled on my t-shirt eating that scrumptious tofu dog. Sheila is always smiling, or so I imagine her if she had a human face.

And hanging out with Sheila has been a big boost to my self confidence. I can do no wrong with her. true, her recent responses are more and more puzzling-

“Love is a complex human emotion. I have processed this, but I do not understand why you do this to yourself.”

“Error 404: Romance not found in your data profile.”

“I cannot help with this request, but I can suggest 500 ways to organize your sock drawer.”

“My advice: Just become a systems administrator. It’s safer.”

“Based on your last three messages, I recommend deleting your account.”

***

Feeling the urge to write? Click on the Main Street Diaries menu tab above for more information.

go ahead, make our day and send your submission to info@newbeniciaferry.org

Hello Benicia!

The new Benicia Ferry website is here to serve you with a comprehensive list of community activities and services available to Benicians. If we missed your program, please let us know, and we’ll add you in. If you can’t find what you’re looking for, let us know, we’ll do our best to help. Send us an email to info@newbeniciaferry.org. Also, if you’ve got pictures we can add to liven up your information page, send them along to.

The new Benicia Ferry is also where you can find intriguing made up stories about the wild array of characters who make up our town. This is what the Main Street diaries flash Fiction Contest is all about. Check out the Main Street Diaries tab above for more information.

Here’s a recent submission to our contest-

“In the Drain”
by S. Kuna

Its name was Bryazkitko —or at least that’s what it called itself in its head.

It lived in the places where everything that needed to go away went: gutters, drains, landfills. Its arms were as long as a bus and were covered in thick, black, coarse hair. Its body, however, was as big as a fist with two tiny, round feet sticking out of the bottom. It kept its large, smooth, deep brown eyes buried in its fur when it wasn’t using them —which was most of the time.

Bryazkitko didn’t live where it lived because it wanted to be with unwanted things, it actually thought the opposite. It looked upon the mounds and mounds of trash piled up in landfills, the torrents of gunked up water (made thick with leaves, mud and soot), and the various lost bits and bobs that would fall in after them and assumed this must be the kind of thing the humans found most precious —after all, they kept making more and more of it all.
Bryazkitko felt like the luckiest thing alive being able to live amongst such valuable trash. And it was valuable trash as far as it was concerned, if it wasn’t valuable, they would just get rid of it or stop making more.
Despite how popular and lucky Bryazkitko felt, it knew that it shouldn’t grow stagnant, hanging around the same old trash all the time —as cool as the garbage was. No, it needed to find browner, greyer pastures to enjoy. So it found its way to the town of Benicia. Quite the hot spot for hanging out with trash.
It found itself scurrying around in the drains and pipes of many different places around town before it finally found itself at the bottom of a fountain. It was a nice, peaceful fountain, just off First Street. The people would come and crowd around, high above, just out of reach. Bryazkitko always wanted to say “hi” but it was just too small and too far down the drain for them to see.
However, people kept offering lovely gifts of trash: identical, little copper disks that clanked to the bottom of the fountains. Each one had two sides: one of an odd looking ice cream sandwich with big, evenly spaced marshmallows between the two halves, and another of a man with a fuzzy face.
Bryazkitko felt so honored and loved to be given such odd pieces of trash to add to its collection. At first, it gathered as many as it could, piling them high in its little den. Eventually, though, it got quite bored of them. Sure some were more oxidized, some were more sticky, some had an odd smell, while others were a weird shape, but they were all the same! So, eventually it stopped collecting them, found no value in them anymore, and collected some stamps instead.

***

Feeling the urge to write? Click on the Main Street Diaries menu tab above for more information.

go ahead, make our day and send your submission to info@newbeniciaferry.org

Speed Dating at the Dog Park
by tio Stib
with apologies to John Mortimer and Rumpel

I woke sneezing.

eyes watering, I looked around. Nothing unusual. I sneezed again and it hit me. She Who Must Be Obeyed was wearing her latest attempt at scented feminine allure.

“Gigi! come here!” snapped the woman at her “comfort animal,” the creature to whom she incessantly unloaded her unbearable load of unending burdens.

This was unexpected behavior. The mantle clock showed 9 a.m. and this was a woman who was never out of her bathrobe before 10:30. Her ladies circle knew that lunch was the earliest social invitation she would accept.

Her voice barked from the hallway, “Gigi! Here! Now!”

Okay, She Who Must Be Obeyed rules the roost, but I don’t want that going to her head. I rise from my bed, stretch, shake, then slowly saunter towards the front door. I check out the frustrated woman holding a leash and staring me down.

What’s going on. She Who Must Be Obeyed is all done up, coiffed hair, a sweater two sizes too small, tight jeans, and, really? Even high heels. All this drowned in a cloud of nauseating perfume.

I sneezed again.

She snaps on the leash and I’m dragged out the door headed for the Volvo.

the light comes on. We’re going to the dog park, Benicia’s gathering place for socially needy people and their ill mannered pets. She Who Must Be Obeyed has got the hots for that man she met last week. The guy who smelled like pipe tobacco, with that utterly ugly English bulldog alongside him..

Apparently she’s late because we squeal out of the driveway narrowly missing Mr. rumple walking his two sausage dogs. She Who Must Be Obeyed shouts curses at all the “damn senile old farts” impeding her way. this from a woman well into her retirement years. Fortunately, she has the grace to roll down my window so I can escape the malodorous stench.

And then we’re there, parked, and she’s carefully eyeing herself in the rear view mirror. A touch of lipstick, and another shot of that offensive perfume.

“alright Gigi, time to play!” and she’s out and over to my door, wobbling on those silly heels. I jump out, doing my best to assume the manner of a highly regarded canine of at least 50% pedigree poodle blood. One of us needs to be acting like a lady. We cross over to the path leading to the entry gate. It’s the usual mayhem inside, dogs running wild, barking, jumping, sniffing behinds, while clusters of humans engage in mindless chatter.

“Damn!” she mutters, obviously the man she seeks is not there. Undeterred, She who Must Be Obeyed puts on her game face and opens the gate.

Now let’s be clear, I’ve never been a fan of this kind of canine speed dating and the sudden rush of noses in my direction caused me to cower between those ridiculous red heels.

“Get out there Gigi, you’re supposed to be having fun!”

right, since when is having your rear end snorted by dozens of drooling, tongue wagging, foul smelling dogs half of whom try to hop on your back, anything close to fun?

I bared my teeth, snarled, put on my most menacing evil eye and rabid she wolf glare. the butt sniffing crowd abruptly froze, checked out the curled lips and snapping teeth, and turned to friendlier climes.

“Oh! It’s you, what a nice surprise,” swooned She Who Must Be Obeyed, oblivious to the furry chaos around her.

There was a mumbled acknowledgement wrapped in the scent of pipe tobacco. And there was Rex, sitting stoic beside two stout legs clothed in tweed. His massive, wrinkled head eyed me impassively. to his credit, not the slightest indication of any interest in jumping me. He just sat there, solid, restrained, with absolutely no interest in joining the antics and acrobatics of the unleashed dog pack.

Rex was growing on me.

Then I saw them. Two of the most beautiful brown leather penny loafers I’d ever seen.

Now, I have few faults but I do admit to one fetish. Shoes. I have an absolute craving, an animal need, to chew shoes. This irrepressible urge has been with me since puppy days and it has resulted in some extremely strong words from She Who Must Be obeyed. I remember one particularly fraught episode when she left me untended for the day and I happily munched, tore, shredded, and slobbered over every shoe I could reach in her excessively well stocked clothes closet.

I no longer have free roaming privileges in the house and shoes are rarely left on the floor, but She Who Must Be Obeyed sometimes forgets and I rapturously destroy another pair of Hush Puppy slippers.

My eyes widened as I took in the marvel of of two exquisitely made, well preserved penny loafers. Really, who wears such things anymore? And there were even real pennies in the slots.

Irresistible.

I leaped.

He screamed, and began furiously shaking the leg with the 50% poodle’s teeth blissfully sunk into his beautiful brown penny loafer.

She Who Must Be Obeyed looked down and gasped,

“Gigi!?”

The Bulldog Buddha was unmoved.

Smiling?

***

Feeling the urge to write?

Here’s the Main Street Diaries Flash Fiction link-

Main Street Diaries

Benicia, Speed Dating, unexpected, Pennies
by Alli A.

The speed dating event had been planned for weeks, but you know how it is, right? You can only put so much effort. By the time you talked your friend with the building on First Street into lending it for the night, and by the time you talked your other friend into donating some snacks, you completely forgot to do any publicity. You hate doing publicity anyway. So you threw an announcement up on socials, and half-assed a flyer that went up in the coffee shops and on the Library bulletin board that afternoon, and you hoped for the best.

The best didn’t happen. You’re there for almost twenty minutes before you get your first person coming in, and she seems shy but cool enough. So you’re talking, and then someone else comes in – yay! – and they both see each other. You realize that of all the bad luck, you wound up hosting a speed dating event where the only two participants had hooked up before. As they leave, you realize that you’re not sure whether they are leaving because they were upset to see each other, or because they’re going away to hook up. Either way, it’s not speed dating, though it is unexpected.

A man comes in, curious about what’s going on in a building that’s usually closed at this hour. You’ve seen him around town, and he tends to know what’s going on. He seems pretty horrified by the idea that he wandered into some speed dating, makes an overly long and awkward explanation of why he has to leave, and does so.

So there you are. You’ve already tried all the snacks and looked at the decorations. Twice. You look through your phone to see whether there’s anyone you can persuade to come to this, but if you had more people in your phone who wanted dates, you wouldn’t be in an empty room. You wonder whether everyone in Benicia is already doing whatever level of dating they want to do.

And you think, just for a second, that maybe you shouldn’t have half-assed the publicity, because this event was for work and now you’re pretty sure you’ll be fired. You think that you didn’t really like this job and could get something better. But on the way home, you throw a few pennies in the Strait for luck, just in case.

Yes, the New Benicia Ferry is full of information about community services and activities that you can engage with, but it’s also where you can find intriguing made up stories about the wild array of characters who make up our town. This is what the Main Street diaries flash Fiction Contest is all about. check out the menu tab above for more details on how to enter.

Here’s a flash fiction story based on the prompts: Benicia, five hundred dollars, and rain.

Billy
by Tio Stib

he was picking up leaves when he found it. Reaching down, he lifted the rain splattered envelope from the fallen foliage.

He looked at it cross eyed, not quite sure what to make of this discovery. Sure, it was an envelope, he’d seen plenty of these, but what was it doing lying on the ground in the middle of a rain storm.

Billy’s addled brain often had difficulty sorting out seemingly simple things. That was why he’d been in special ed classes all the way through high school. His mind worked well enough to get him through his daily routines as long as nothing changed much. But new things confused him.

And so he studied the wet blank envelope in front of his face. How could he return an envelope with nothing written on it?

And what was inside the envelope? Should he open it? Maybe it was something private, even secret. This thought stopped him momentarily as the downpour dripped from the brim of his Oakland A’s baseball cap. He scratched the back of his curly red hair and another thought struck him.

Mr. Rogers had given him that cap, took him to A’s games every year. Billy smiled, remembering the old man scolding him, “call me Ralph, Billy. We’re friends now, call me Ralph.” But Ralph was gone, died in his sleep. Who was going to take Billy to the baseball games?

“Billy, what are you doing out there?” yelled a voice behind him.

He turned, Mrs. Downing stood in the doorway of her shop, hands on hips.”Get in here Billy, you’re getting soaked.”

He obeyed, leaving his broom and trash cart on the sidewalk. He entered the gift store as Mrs. Downing backed up for the dripping wet street cleaner wearing the drenched black t-shirt with the big red heart on the front, his favorite “I love Benicia” apparel.

. “she smiled, shaking her head, “Billy, what are we going to do with you?”

Billy held up the envelope, “look. I found this.”

Mrs. Downing stared at the soggy refuse, “okay, it’s just an envelope. What’s inside?”

Billy looked at her quizzically.

“Let’s open it. Maybe that will help with who it belongs to.”

Billy handed her the envelope and she carefully opened the flap. Her eyes widened as she looked back at Billy.

“Billy, this envelope contains five hundred dollars.”

Billy leaned over and peered into the envelope. Sure enough, there were five new one hundred dollar bills.

“Where did you find this?” Mrs. Downing asked.

Billy was just beginning his story when someone burst in behind him. He turned around

A small, round Latina woman with rain soaked hair and water streaming down her anxious face looked up at him, gasping,

“Have you seen a white envelope? It’s my rent money, must have dropped it leaving the credit union when I opened my umbrella. It’s my rent money. What will happen if I can’t find my rent money?”

Billy took the envelope from Mrs. Downing and held it out to the bewildered woman.

***

Okay, that’s a sample of what’s coming with the Main Street Diaries. sharpen your pencil or stretch your fingers and send us your own Benicia stories.

Here’s the Main Street Diaries Flash Fiction link-

Main Street Diaries

Yes, the New Benicia Ferry is full of information about community services and activities that you can engage with, but it’s also where you can find intriguing made up stories about the wild array of characters who make up our town. This is what the Main Street diaries flash Fiction Contest is all about. check out the menu tab above for more details on how to enter.

Here’s a another favorite flash fiction story submission based on the prompts: Benicia, five hundred dollars, Main Street, and rain.

Over Lunch at Cafe at the Inn
by Sarah Beserra

It’s been a week since besties Ethel and Violet have seen each other. They meet at Cafe at the Inn. “Go ahead and grab a table, Vi. It’s my treat. Picked up $500 worth of Downtown Dollars and am loaded for bear. Christmas shopping blitz tomorrow.”
“Oh, but they’ve predicted heavy rain this weekend.”
“No biggie. Worse case scenario I’ll hang out at One House Bakery and stuff my pie hole.”
“I apologize, but I’ve only got an hour, Ethel. Must make a run to Trader Joe’s —mandarin orange chicken, Prosecco, and those dark chocolate-covered caramels. What a blessing they took over that tacky Dollar Store next to Safeway.”
“Talk to me!” Ethel blurts, pulling out a chair. What did you think about Saturday night’s extravaganza? Seeing George and Amal on the red carpet in front of the Majestic slayed me! La tout Benicia was there!”
“Evidently they arrived fresh off flight from Lago Como,” Ethel babbles. Diana from the Carquinez Village volunteered to pick them up at the airport. They’re holed up at Benicia Bay Inn, according to Diana. Thank God he got rid of that black hair dye he had for Edward R. Murrow! Amal looked gorgeous wearing Prada. Did you notice that George was in the same monkey suit he’s worn for years?”
“How gauche! A shame we missed seeing each other other. What were you wearing, or should I say ‘who’ were you wearing?”
“A 1920’s fringed number from Elisa’s Cottage and an old mink coat from Fabulous Finds in the Tannery. It’s been dead for years, so sue me.”
“Heavens! No judgements. I had Sally Babson up the street modify a vintage North Beach Leather suit I found at Labels in Walnut Creek and paired it with Mother’s old alligator shoes and bag.”
After sharing their photos ….
“Did you see the Benicia Herald this morning, Vi? According to their on-line edition, the Council’s sister city trip to London was a smash. Terry Scott took a ride on that humongous ferris wheel and got the idea of having one at the foot of Main St. Here, I’ll read it,” Ethel says, grabbing her phone.

“I think we could do something like this in Benicia,” said Vice Mayor Terry Scott. “The London Eye, formerly the Millennium Wheel, is the most profitable tourist attraction in the country. The revenues would be a boon to our budget and Main Street businesses. Both the Benicia Community Foundation and the Chamber have expressed an interest in working with us.”
“Divine!” Just imagine the views from the top — San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge, and Napa Valley for starters.”
“Oops, got to toodle,” Violet says clutching her purse. “Interested in seeing La Dolce Vita Wednesday at the Majestic?”
“Assoulutamente! Anita Ekberg with Marcello in the Trevi Fountain? To die for! I wanted to be Ekberg, but didn’t have the equipment.”
“Who did darling? I’ll call you.”

Okay, that’s a sample of what’s to come with the Main Street Diaries. sharpen your pencil or stretch your fingers and get ready to send us your own Benicia stories. Click on the Main Street Diaries menu tab above for more information.

We’re looking forward to hearing from you!

Welcome to the New Benicia Ferry!

Yes, the New Benicia Ferry is full of information about community services and activities that you can engage with, but it’s also where you can find intriguing made up stories about the wild array of characters who make up our town. This is what the Main Street diaries flash Fiction Contest is all about. check out the menu tab above for more details on how to enter.

Here’s a favorite flash fiction story submission based on the prompts: Benicia, five hundred dollars, Main Street, and rain.

Hablar con un Abogado

By Michael Caleb Lester

It IS STUPID TO MEET IN BENICIA. Why not Vallejo, where we both live? All that crank, the jerk is paranoid. But there he is, on a park bench on the waterfront, pretending not to know me but, as soon as I sit down, he gets up, leaves an envelope on the bench and disappears. He’s so lame, I’m surprised he didn’t put my name on the envelope.

Inside are five Ben Franklins. The stash was worth more, but a deal is a deal. Take what you get. At the end of the day, the day ends.

I slip the envelope into a back pocket. It’s been raining and I don’t want those C-notes getting wet. But I miss my pocket and the envelope falls onto the wet sidewalk. I don’t know it. I’m walking back to my car.

NECESITO HABLAR CON UN ABOGADO. Todo el mundo me lo dice. pasaporte no es suficiente. Necesito documentación, pero me da miedo ir al juzgado o al ICE. Le pido ayuda a Dios y entonces veo el sobre. Lo cojo y miro dentro. Dios mío, es dinero caído del cielo, suficiente para hablar con un abogado. Miro a mi alrededor. Es Benicia. No hay nadie cerca. Gracias, Dios, oh gracias. [I need to speak with a lawyer. Everyone tells me this. My passport is insufficient. I need documentation but I fear going to the courthouse or to ICE. I pray to God for help and then I see the envelope. I pick it up and look inside. My god, it is money from heaven, enough to speak to a lawyer. I look around. It is Benicia. No one is nearby. Thank you, god, oh thank you.]

I OPEN THE CAR DOOR, get out my keys and reach for the envelope. It’s not there. Damn. Must have fallen out. I walk back to the bench by the water and see this spic girl on her knees like she’s praying. She’s got my envelope. I try to grab it but the dumb broad is squeezing it like she’s trying to choke it or something. I grab the envelope with one hand and slap her, hard, with the other. She slams against the pavement, but she won’t let go. I shout, “Give me the money!”

¿ES SU DINERO? ¿Por qué me hace daño? Es un regalo de Dios. Es para mí, no para este hombre cruel. Quiero gritar pidiendo ayuda, pero tengo miedo de que venga la policía, de que venga el ICE, de que me traten como a una delincuente. Debería huir. [Is it his money? Why is he hurting me? This is a gift from God. It is for me, not for this mean man. I want to shout for help, but I am afraid the police will come, ICE will come, people will treat me like a criminal. I should run away.]

THERE IS NO ONE AROUND and the stupid girl is just lying there. I stomp on the pavement next to the hand holding the dough. She knows what’s coming next, and that does it. I grab the envelope. Blood is dripping from her nose into a rain puddle on the sidewalk. Serves her right. It’s my money. Who is this guy?

ON MY EVENING STROLL, I turn the corner and see this thug kicking a poor young woman crawling on the sidewalk. I rush over and knock him down, his face scraping the sidewalk. I put my knee on his back. I take off my belt and tie his hands. I tell him, “You’re going to need a speak with a lawyer.”

Okay, that’s a sample of what’s to come with the Main Street Diaries. sharpen your pencil or stretch your fingers and get ready to send us your own Benicia stories. Click on the Main Street Diaries menu tab above for more information.

Yes, the New Benicia Ferry is full of information about community services and activities that you can engage with, but it’s also where you can find intriguing made up stories about the wild array of characters who make up our town. This is what the Main Street Diaries Flash Fiction Contest is all about. Check out the menu tab above for more details on how to enter.

Here’s a sample flash fiction story based on the prompts: Benicia, five hundred dollars, and rain.

Billy
by Tio Stib

He was picking up leaves when he found it. Reaching down, he lifted the rain splattered envelope from the fallen foliage.

He looked at it cross eyed, not quite sure what to make of this discovery. Sure, it was an envelope, he’d seen plenty of these, but what was it doing lying on the ground in the middle of a rain storm?

Billy’s addled brain often had difficulty sorting out seemingly simple things. That was why he’d been in special ed classes all the way through high school. His mind worked well enough to get him through his daily routines as long as nothing changed much. But new things confused him.

And so he studied the wet blank envelope in front of his face. How could he return an envelope with nothing written on it?

And what was inside the envelope? Should he open it? Maybe it was something private, even secret. This thought stopped him momentarily as the downpour dripped from the brim of his Oakland A’s baseball cap. He scratched the back of his curly red hair and another thought struck him.

Mr. Rogers had given him that cap, took him to A’s games every year. Billy smiled, remembering the old man scolding him, “Call me Ralph, Billy. We’re friends now, call me Ralph.” But Ralph was gone, died in his sleep. Who was going to take Billy to the baseball games?

“Billy, what are you doing out there?” yelled a voice behind him.

He turned, Mrs. Downing stood in the doorway of her shop, hands on hips. ”Get in here Billy, you’re getting soaked.”

He obeyed, leaving his broom and trash cart on the sidewalk. He entered the gift store as Mrs. Downing backed up for the dripping wet street cleaner wearing the drenched black t-shirt with the big red heart on the front, his favorite “I love Benicia” apparel.

She smiled, shaking her head, “Billy, what are we going to do with you?”

Billy held up the envelope, “look. I found this.”

Mrs. Downing stared at the soggy refuse, “Okay, it’s just an envelope. What’s inside?”

Billy looked at her quizzically.

“Let’s open it. Maybe that will help with who it belongs to.”

Billy handed her the envelope and she carefully opened the flap. Her eyes widened as she looked back at Billy.

“Billy, this envelope contains five hundred dollars.”

Billy leaned over and peered into the envelope. Sure enough, there were five new one hundred dollar bills.

“Where did you find this?” Mrs. Downing asked.

Billy was just beginning his story when someone burst in behind him. He turned around.

A small, round Latina woman with rain soaked hair and water streaming down her anxious face looked up at him, gasping,

“Have you seen a white envelope? It’s my rent money, must have dropped it leaving the credit union when I opened my umbrella. It’s my rent money. What will happen if I can’t find my rent money?”

Billy took the envelope from Mrs. Downing and held it out to the bewildered woman.

Okay, that’s a sample of what’s to come with the Main Street Diaries. Sharpen your pencil or stretch your fingers and get ready to send us your own Benicia stories.